Vision
by Echeziel
Summary: She was a prisoner of her own private world. Probably not what you expect. A morbid Oneshot, Sakura-centric,a little insanity. Or maybe a lot. NaruSaku or KakaSaku if you squint


**Alright, here's the deal. I have no clue what this is, just something that I came up with quickly. It's SUPPOSED to be an insanity fic, but it morphed into something....different. Read at your own risk, and PLEASE give me some pointers, okay? And yes, this IS morbid at times. Meaning: I warned you, so DONT leave a flame saying that I didn't. This IS rated M for a REASON, people.]**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but I own my imagination. And that's good enough for now, but I still want to own Naruto.  
**

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A midnight black crow cawed from a branch high in the oak tree, its ominous voice bringing a dark air to the gray, rain cloud-covered morning.

Slowly the sun rose from underneath the earth that it slept under for half the day. Its cheery rays cast an odd lighting on the gray sky, and the bright rays also revealed the sleeping forms of three men. One had a childish sleeping hat upon his head, and he was tangled in his standard dark gray shinobi sleeping bag. His golden hair peeked out from the hat, and his face-whiskers caught the sun's rays in an odd way, making them gleam a curious shade of gray/red.

Another of the men had silver hair and was sleeping against a tree, a kunai in his hand as if he was anticipating an attack at any point in time. The last had short black hair and an eerily pale complexion. He slept in his normal clothes of a cut-off black-and-gray shirt with red lining and black pants. His hair was mussed up, though he wasn't moving. His face had an odd melancholy smile etched onto his features.

Watching this whole thing was a pink-haired woman who sat atop a tree opposite the clearing from the crow. Her pink hair and emerald eyes caught the sun's rays and set them aglow, whereas her red vest and short medic skirt and black skin-tight shorts remained in the shadows.

She felt an unfamiliar warm feeling fill her chest at the sight of these three men. She didn't know who they were, know who they _are_, but she felt like they were important, _vital_ even, to her life and happiness.

Sudden birdsong cut through the female's odd sense of knowing-without-actually-knowing, and suddenly the crow wasn't there. There was only the rising sun chasing away the ominous clouds and dark thoughts and harbored emotions and starting a new, cheery spring day. The female didn't know how she knew it was spring, it was just something that her mind told her, a fact of her life, like the fact that she knew she had pink hair and green eyes and her favorite mug was lime green and sky blue or that her left hand had a small scar right behind her middle finger's cuticle.

The scene morphed into a black pit of emptiness, blackness so complete that not only could you not see anything, but you couldn't hear or taste or smell anything, either. Blackness so complete that there was no visible end, not a single spark of light. But she could feel the cold stone against her backside and bottom, stone that had never once been hit by the sunlight in its whole millennia of existence. The sun was always _just_ out of reach, so close but yet so far away that it was painful.

The stone trapped hate and depression and fear and anger and feelings of betrayal from all who had ever experienced these emotions. The dark feelings only serve to make the stone colder than it is, making it like an ice cube that is just out of the comforting rays of sunlight.

After drifting ever further into the bleak darkness her eyes could pick out the faint sunlight streaming through the minute cracks of the roof, warming a part of the stone that she could not reach, could not touch, because of the icy manacles holding her in place.

Slowly the light pours out in steadily growing brightness until it blurs her stone world filled with rusted junk and materials that are growing older and in the process of decaying.

Along with the sun came a feeling of hope, a feeling that those unknown people who she knew were important to her were coming to save her, to rescue her from the steadily advancing eternal darkness.

The darkness morphed into a morbid scene. Corpses were strewn haphazardly through the street, many piles with long spears sticking through the center of the bodies. Dozens were headless, the heads nailed to the wall close to the bodies. There were children frozen with their eyes wide and terrified expressions on their face, frozen in the street in ice, with vines about their necks, choking them through the ice, causing them near-instant death.

Animals lay slaughtered in the gutters, long-dried blood staining the brown cobblestones of the street. Dogs lie on the harsh stone, their ears shredded and their eyes glazed over. Their ribs were torn open by some savage beast that ate the meager meat off of the skinny bones, and their tails were all ripped off, no matter how short or furry. Cats lie burnt to a crisp, pierced through the head by poison-tipped arrows that still held their deadly liquids. Horses were chopped to pieces and hung on the wall, and rats and raccoons had their coats matted with long-dried blood, nailed to each doorway.

Sunlight peeked over distant mountains, letting a meager amount of sunlight fill the morbid sight, illuminating a small piece of paper. A breeze began, and the paper lifted off the ground and fluttered down the morbid road. As it passed the female's viewpoint, she glimpsed a drawing clearly done by a child with crayons. It depicted many people in some type of town center, all holding hands and smiling, the sun in the background with sunglasses and a big, warm-hearted smile upon its cheery face.

It breezed down the morose street, the only movement visible in the entire town.

Suddenly bright peals of laughter met her ears, as did idle townsfolk chatter. She turned her head, looking in all directions for the source. But all that met her was the wind. A trick of the mind, it was.

The scene once again morphed and changed. The pink-haired female that her brain recognized as herself was met by a mournful-looking silver-haired and blond-haired men.

"We've come to bring you home, Sakura" the blond said.

'Sakura? Who's that? Who is this Sakura person?' she thought at them. Her mouth would not open to form the words to her question.

"It's alright, Sakura. We're here now. It's going to be all right, everything will be fine" the silver haired man added.

Now she wanted to scream it out, but still her mouth would not open to form her words. 'Who is Sakura?!?!' she thought at them with all her might, hoping that somehow one of them developed telekinetic powers.

"Come on, Sakura, let's go"

Weakly she nodded, and the silver-haired man picked her up into his arms. She supposed that maybe her _name_ was Sakura. It _was_ possible, after all. It was just the three of them, so they could only be talking to her.

The man carried her away from her prison that she could not see. It was all just a blur of gray.

All that she knew was immense happiness that she was leaving that place. She _knew_ that she would always be haunted, and she knew that there would always be a part of her that was filled with the darkness that _she_ had been filled with fir the past few months. But she was free, she was leaving, and with people that she trusted with her life, though she had no clue as to who and what they were to her.

"Thank you" she managed to croak, though it didn't seem like a 'thank you' at all. Her voice was scratched and deep and warped from not using it for so long. Her throat hurt from just muttering those two simple words. But the two men seemed to get it and they both smiled. She was once again filled with warmth, and she was so extremely happy to be away from her own personal prison that her chest seemed ready to burst with joy.

She was going home.

But then suddenly sharp pains appeared in her ribs and skull, and she could not feel her legs or her left arm. Her skin felt like cloth against her tiny muscles and she felt cruises on said membrane. She felt ready to puke, and an all-too-familiar excruciating, pounding headache descended upon her.

After two initial cries of shock, the two men's voices seemed to change to the cawing of crows and then faded to an achingly familiar silence. Her vision deteriorated while their features and her already-limited vision of her surrounding blurred and faded.

Slowly she opened her eyes to reveal the gray stone world that she lived in. She had gone nowhere, and perhaps never will.

At that, she faded away into the ever-welcoming blank blackness of unconsciousness.


End file.
